


Cet Air-Là

by Magpiedance



Category: Far Cry: New Dawn
Genre: Ambiguous Captain, Other, dogging, vehicle sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 16:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18253454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magpiedance/pseuds/Magpiedance
Summary: Roger has wanted to take you for a ride, in more ways than one.





	Cet Air-Là

**Author's Note:**

> _Ou que ton cœur change de route_
> 
> _Moi j'aurai le mien en déroute_
> 
> _-_

Roger's fingers tighten just a little on your hips as you pull yourself up and down in his lap. It's a little awkward to manoeuvre in the cockpit but with the way his eyes lit up when he suggested it you couldn't deny him.

“ _Mon chou_ ,” he says, “ _mon ange, mon colibri!_ ”

His head thrown back; little puffs of breath fog out of him in the cold morning air.

“I knew it would be like this,” he asserts. “I just knew it would be this good, _ça fait putain du bien!_ ”

He lurches forward suddenly, wrapping his arms around your back and burying his face in the crook of your neck. He licks a stripe up to your chin, nibbles at the flesh of your shoulder, pecks sweet little kisses over every bit of you he can. His enthusiasm for you is as it ever was; his energy for this rivalling that which you have ever experienced. You think he might love you nearly as much as he loves La Grosse Patate.

Nearly.

He tips you backwards onto the console, your butt pressed uncomfortably into the controls. As if you could give a damn about that at a time like this. One of your hands grabs at the edge to hold yourself up, and the other flies behind you smearing a hand-print across the glass in a manner that will be very telling if anyone notices. He uses this new angle fuck up and into you, moaning his enjoyment through every thrust and relentlessly ramming his body into yours making your flesh smack obscenely together.

He kisses you softly and then aggressively, alternating in mood between tenderness and hunger like he can't decide whether he wants to make love to you or eat you.

Your arms shake with the effort of holding your body up but it's so good, so perfect, so very what you need right now with the world gone mad and everyone you ever knew either dead or missing. In this new world order it's never difficult to find someone just as desperate to feel any kind of personal connection to crawl into bed with but so rarely are you made to feel like you were the goal and not just a convenience.

When he finally slumps back into his seat you slide bonelessly back into his lap, your head rested on his shoulder, spent and trembling with exertion. You thank him, quietly. A little afraid that he'll be put off by your vulnerability in this moment and unsure how to express how much his support and acceptance means to you without making him feel like you're trying to draw some kind of commitment out of him.

He chuckles and pulls you into a crushing bear hug.

“Ah, _mon canard!_ ” He grins into your hair. “How did I get so lucky?”

You sink a little deeper into his embrace and ask yourself the same thing.

**Author's Note:**

> [Cet air-là](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DimWaNc5bGA), France Gall, may she rest in peace.


End file.
